Well, it's happened again. Me getting excited about the mundane, I mean. And here it is...
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQVjZLJ6Fcrc9bNKhyphenhyphenf2qWerwVGTSzoigpKn9pYb42qx6jKxxvqhWZRETUICO-__1BeVXMefuRDHkjAsKj_wjQmmcDLdBGg7_XCxKD38pe1q3E2PK14mgcA3it-RRo_I0hkOJzjsrFkjSE/s400/SSPX0175.jpg)
Can you see it?
Do you know what I'm talking about?
If you live out here in the boondocks of the "Far Northwest Suburbs of Chicago" you know what I'm talking about.
I haven't seen a "real" mailtruck in 6 years!
I cannot tell you how annoying it has been to me to see the mail carrier cruising around in their personal vehicle or when you get behind that person not realizing it's the mailman and have them stop short. Or try to explain to people who enjoy making fun of the fact that you live in a town famous for the Turkey Testicle Festival that the hunk of junk outside your house is the car delivering your mail.
I feel like I live in a real town now.
I'm proud of my podunk town for finally entering this millenium and getting me a freakin' mail truck!
I'm a dork.
I know.
2 comments:
I adore you! You are a real woman. Dorky is my middle name for the love of God. Plus, I swear at my kids, have terrible guilt, and LOVE the frickin mail truck for all the same reasons.
Erin, I adore you. Don't change one stinkin bit. Col :)
I need to clarify, I don't swear at them on purpose, it just comes out soemtimes - that's where the guilt comes in to play (and stay for a long time) I think I need therapy. (ok, I know)
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